


Vinnie's Fight

by Natashasolten



Category: Wiseguy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-10
Updated: 2011-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natashasolten/pseuds/Natashasolten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny finds Vinnie in his suite, beaten and bleeding.  At first Vinnie won't speak to him, but when the story unfolds, Sonny becomes enlightened about the true depths of Vinnie's loyalty and the ever growing closeness between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vinnie's Fight

VINNIE’S FIGHT

 

“I fight against a sunset of green poison,  
and those broken arches where time is suffering.”

\- Federico Garcia Lorca

 

When Sonny came down to the garage, Mikey, the new driver, met him.

Sonny frowned when he saw Vinnie’s Porsche. He had thought Vinnie was still out. “Where’s Terranova?” he demanded.

“He came back about an hour ago. I just assumed he was going to your office.”

This confused Sonny. Vinnie always checked in with him. “Was he alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No, but I was nowhere near him, either. Just saw the car drive up.” Mikey paused. “Come to think of it, now, he looked kinda….”

“What?” Sonny’s impatience surprised him.

“He was walking slow, had his hands up like this.” He crossed his fists against his diaphragm. “He didn’t look around for anyone. He just headed straight for the elevators.”

Sonny barely heard the last part of what Mikey said. He was already turning away, already jogging for the elevator.

It was 7 P.M. They usually had dinner together. When the doors opened onto Vinnie’s suite he could see it was dark inside. There were no lights except city light leaking in through the windows. It gave the room a soft orange glow.

Sonny stepped into the foyer by the open bar. “Vinnie?”

No answer.

He glanced immediately at the bedroom door, seeing it was closed. He walked toward it, listening for any sound, but heard nothing. “Vinnie?” He knocked on the wood of the threshold, a light rap.

Still no answer.

Slowly, Sonny opened the door. In the dim lighting from the living room, he could just barely make out a shape on the bed. Unmoving. “Hey. Vinnie.” He wanted to demand answers. Instinct told him to speak softly. “It’s seven o’clock.” He strode forward, watching as the shape moved under the covers, as Vinnie’s head shifted very slightly. “Are you okay?”

He watched Vinnie move to sit up in the golden dimness from the front room. The covers slid from his bare shoulders. His thick dark hair hung in damp clumps against his forehead. He did not look up as he said, voice low and inflectionless, “What are you doing?”

Ignoring the question, Sonny asked one of his own. “What’s wrong?”

“Hell, I thought this was my suite and I could do what I want here.”

“It is.”

“Well go away. I’m taking the night off.”

“What?” Sonny was caught totally off-guard. This was not how Vinnie talked. Especially to him.

Sonny moved forward noticing, as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, that there was something on Vinnie’s arm…a scrape? Then he started to notice more. Vinnie’s clothes, a very nice suit in fact, were strewn on the floor. Beside them lay a fresh, still damp white towel. It was stained with something. Sonny knew blood when he saw it, even in the dark.

He didn’t think. He just went to the bed, turned on the lamp, and knelt, grabbing Vinnie’s chin, pulling it up.

“Hey!” Vinnie protested.

He saw a bruise starting to form under Vinnie’s eye. A still bleeding cut oozed at the hairline by his left temple mostly hidden by hair. Vinnie pushed his hand away, hard, as Sonny said, “Fuck, who did this to you?” He reached out again but Vinnie turned away, smacking at his arm again.

“Just leave me alone.”

Sonny ignored the gesture, pushing the covers down. “How bad is it?” But he knew. He just knew. Vinnie wouldn’t go to bed early, not this early, if something wasn’t really wrong.

“Quit!” Vinnie said, scooting to the far edge of the bed, pulling up his knees. The covers dropped to his ankles. Vinnie wore only black boxers. His knees were darkly bruised. As were his ribs.

Now that Sonny was closer to him, he could smell the dampness of Vinnie’s shock, see that the tall body was shaking, hear the breath catching. Vinnie’s hair was still damp from a recent shower, but it did not disguise the fact that Vinnie was still sweating, still in pain.

Sonny moved closer to him, grabbing one shoulder. Vinnie pushed him hard but Sonny didn’t let go. “Who did this to you?” This was both personal and business, but the retaliation aspect of it was something he could damn well take care of.

Vinnie pushed him again, then started hitting him. “Let go of me. Dammit! Leave me alone!”

Vinnie’s punches were completely pulled. His words were expected, the kinds of things any man would say who’d had the shit beaten out of him. So Sonny ignored him, sitting back on the side of the bed, but keeping one hand on Vinnie’s shoulder. “I’m calling the doctor then.”

Vinnie turned his head until Sonny could see the hate-filled grimace on his lips. “Get out! You don’t own me. You don’t get to tell me what to do!”

“The fuck I do.” But he kept his voice soft. “I’m not leaving.” He grasped Vinnie’s flailing hands by the wrists as they tried to push him again. “What happened?”

Vinnie pulled back hard. Through gritted teeth he said, “Let go!” He tried to get up, tried to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Vinnie! Stop it. I’m not gonna leave you like this!”

Vinnie froze.

“You’re in shock…or a fever or something. Lie back. I’ll call the doctor.”

Vinnie yanked his hands against Sonny’s grip, but he stopped trying to escape. He leaned back against the headboard. Fresh blood seeped in a thin stream down his temple. “Let go,” he hissed, pulling at his hands again. His body shook. And his voice.

“Okay. Okay.” Sonny let go. He watched him for a moment, but Vinnie was turned away again, huddled into his own arms which crossed his chest. His knees stayed bent.

Sonny picked up the bedside phone and dialed the in-house number for the hotel doctor. When he hung up, Vinnie still had not moved.

“Ten minutes,” Sonny said to him. “You gonna cooperate?”

Shakily, Vinnie lowered his head but said nothing.

“Talk to me,” Sonny said softly. Nonchalantly, he lifted the sheet over Vinnie’s knees and up to his waist.

“I hate your world,” Vinnie replied under his breath. He did not even acknowledge the sheet. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

Sonny tried to ignore the sudden pang he felt in his gut at those words. He didn’t understand what Vinnie was saying, but something in Sonny registered almost a kind of guilt. “What happened?” Sonny asked again.

“What do ya think?” Vinnie’s whisper came out vicious. “I was jumped.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know who!” Vinnie said in sudden anger.

“Did you see a car?”

“Townhouse. Black.”

“Probably Patrice,” Sonny said.

“They fucking shoved me in it.”

“They kidnapped you?”

Vinnie let out a frustrated grunt. “Isn’t that what I said?”

“Where’d they take you?”

“The Marine.”

“Vinnie….”

“Yeah yeah, I know. I should be fucking dead.”

“Two guys against one….”

“Three,” Vinnie said quietly.

“And you got away….” Sonny was actually quite impressed.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t feel like cleaning up after, so there’ll be cops everywhere when they’re discovered.”

“You killed all three of them?”

Now Vinnie turned and looked at Sonny. His gaze was deadly, but swimming with thick moisture. “How the fuck else do you think I’m sitting here talking to ya?”

Sonny looked at those wide blue eyes capped by the thick dark brows. He looked down at Vinnie’s shaking hands, at the bruises. He saw more scrapes on Vinnie’s elbows, on his side, on his firm jaw. The long, tanned body was compact, lean. His hair, even in disarray and still drying, hung glossy and thick. Vinnie gave off a dark glow sitting there, exuding, even in pain, a visceral charisma, a kind of thick, male fortitude forged with a rare, pure handsomeness that made people want to fuck with him. His cocky attitude didn’t help. And Sonny, looking at him, felt a kind of strange fluttery panic start up inside him. Because Vinnie was his. His. And there wasn’t anything about him he didn’t just plain…love. And he had failed him.

Sighing, Sonny said, “What did they want? Did they say?”

Vinnie glanced away and the shimmer in his eyes sparked in an errant ray of light from the low lamp. “They….” He looked at Sonny quickly, with a kind disgust…maybe even an accusation in his tortured eyes. “They wanted to… kill me.”

But Sonny was thinking hard while he looked at him. Reading volumes in that one hesitation. He knew it was Patrice now who had ordered this. And not just by the car’s description. He looked at Vinnie’s wounds and saw the play. Vinnie had fought hard. In his mind, he remembered something Sid had said only a few days ago. “You can’t trust a man who sways other men’s heads. Maybe even yours? He gets noticed, yes? Patrice notices. He doesn’t trust him. Terranova’ll get seduced away from you and turn on you and you’ll never see it coming.”

Sonny had remembered that. Because it had made him mad. Because it had made him say something he had never thought he’d ever say. “What is it with you, Sid? You wanna fire him or fuck him?”

And Sid had calmly replied, “Others do, maybe. Not me.”

Sonny had been so furious he’d actually bitten his own tongue. He had thought Sid was just being stupid again, jealous because he favored Vinnie. And because Patrice was always making innuendos. It had never occurred to him that Sid was warning him that Vinnie might be in danger.

Sonny bent down and grabbed the towel from the floor. He brought it up toward Vinnie’s face. Vinnie, predictably this time, smacked his hand away again. Sonny ignored the blow and brought it to his temple. “You’re bleeding,” was all he said as he used his fingers to push away the thick, soft hair and press the towel to the cut.

Vinnie’s grimace turned into something else, something unreadable. He took a shaky breath, said without conviction, “I hate you.”

Sonny could think of no response. Because really, he and Vinnie had become so close lately. They did everything together. And they had so much fun. Sonny went to bed every night with a warm glow. He didn’t question it. He just knew he loved the guy that much. Now he concentrated on holding the towel to staunch the bleeding.

Weakly, Vinnie pushed at him again. “I hate all you people. This fucked up world of yours….”

Sonny frowned down at him. Their eyes met. Vinnie’s were near to overflowing but they held Sonny’s gaze.

Sonny closed his eyes, nodded once. Opened them.

Vinnie was almost indignant, his mouth tight, his brows narrowed. “Didn’t you hear me?”

Sonny did not look away. Vinnie’s eyes were the true conduit to his heart. And they showed only desperation. They sought Sonny’s gaze with an intensity that made his heart race. “Hush,” was all he said.

In frustration, Vinnie gasped quietly and slumped against him. The sudden contact was not a surprise to Sonny. Vinnie was strong, but he leaned when he needed to. “I hate…,” he wheezed, his forehead pressing Sonny’s chest. “I hate all of you.”

Sonny let the towel drop as he lifted his arms around Vinnie’s shoulders. “Shut up, Terranova, you’re getting blood all over my shirt.”

Vinnie’s body shook. Finally, it relaxed. Sonny lifted one hand, letting his fingers trail in the smooth hair at Vinnie’s nape. It was a gesture he couldn’t hold back. He was always touching Vinnie, who didn’t really seem to mind, but this was different. Vinnie’s breath was hot against his chest, even through the layers of his white shirt and undershirt. Against his palm, Vinnie’s flesh was slightly moist, cool, yet his whole body radiated heat. The skin was like satin.

Vinnie was his, even if nothing ever came of it. That was how he thought of their friendship. Vinnie was his. He was on his mind always, when he went to sleep, when he woke. It was just the way of things. His internal reaction to that was gentle, like something feathery stroking against the inside of his stomach, sending slow, smooth surges throughout his body.

When Vinnie pulled back, Sonny let his lips brush his forehead as if by accident. Vinnie looked up at him, eyes slightly narrowed. He said, quietly, “You failed to protect me.”

Sonny heard the elevator doors open. The doctor’s footsteps moved through the suite. Softly, he replied, “But you don’t need me. I’m the one who needs you.”

Vinnie’s body jolted at the words. The doctor walked into the room.

*

 

Sonny stood very still by the bar. He stared at a tiny spot by the edge of the counter where it looked like maybe the Formica might be starting to come up. He would have to get maintenance to look at it.

He didn’t blink for a long time. His vision got blurry.

He heard the door to Vinnie’s bedroom open, footsteps. He turned and, finally, blinked.

*

 

“He was beaten pretty badly but he’s lucky,” the doctor was saying. “No broken bones. No need for stitches.” He handed Sonny two bottles of pills. “There’s antibiotics. One twice a day. The other is for pain if he needs it.”

“He was in shock,” Sonny added.

The doctor nodded. “Keep him quiet. Let him rest. He’ll be fine.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

*

 

Sonny set the water and the glass of orange juice on the nightstand, then took off his jacket and placed it toward the foot of the bed. Vinnie was sitting up and still looking pretty pissed. Well, he couldn’t blame him. He handed him the bottles of pills.

Vinnie took them, looked at them, then dropped them on the thick gold bedspread beside him.

Sonny saw that the cut at Vinnie’s temple had been taped up. “You should take one of each of those right now,” he said, indicating the bottles.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

Ignoring the flatness, not to mention the rudeness in his tone, Sonny sat down next to him and, with a single look, forced Vinnie to meet his eyes. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Vinnie glanced away, not answering.

Frustrated, Sonny tapped Vinnie’s arm trying to get his attention again. “I gotta know. How in hell did you take down three armed guys?”

Vinnie’s grimace became a smile, then a pained laugh. He looked back at Sonny and his eyes swam. “Pure rage, I guess.”

Sonny gave him a half-smile in return. “I guess so.”

Vinnie frowned. “Yeah.”

“So….” He kept his voice soft. “I want details.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I gotta know what happened, Vinnie, what to do about it.”

“Fine.” Vinnie shifted a little. One fist gripped the edge of the blanket. He scowled. “They threw me on the floor inside the warehouse. They beat me. I don’t remember for how long. I tried to fight. They were having a real good time, laughing, talking about how easy it was gonna be to fuck me up so bad I’d never walk again, then leave me on your doorstep, call you down to come get me, then grab you. They were very detailed about what they were going to enjoy doing to you.” He paused, not looking up.

Sonny said nothing.

He took a huge breath and clamped his lips together tight. Sonny watched as he blinked twice, then let out the air while saying, “Well, fuck them. I witnessed enough of that bullshit in the pen to last ten lifetimes! Something came over me. Good thing, too, because next thing I know, three guys are dead.” He looked down at his fist gripping the edge of the blanket. “Everything was in slow motion. The two holding me down were fucking idiots, not watching me but watching their cohort try to….” He stopped. Air puffed from his lips in disgust.

Sonny said, “Hey, Vinnie, you don’t hafta….”

Vinnie acted like he didn’t hear him. “There was a gun right in my face. I got my hand loose from one idiot and just slowly reached up and grabbed it outta the other guy’s hand at the same time as I turned it, shot it, turned and shot the next guy, then finished the guy on top of me with a bullet to his neck.” Vinnie shrugged. “It was easy.”

Sonny’s jaw dropped. “Easy?”

Vinnie looked right at him, a smug smile. “They were very distracted, Sonny. And I had had enough.”

“Vinnie….”

“I wasn’t going to let them finish their plan, believe me.”

“Hey….”

“Use me to get to you? Not even if I had to fucking die.”

“Shit.”

Vinnie turned to Sonny with an evil smile. “Don’t worry, Sonny. They were dead before they actually did anything. You’re safe. And I’m still your perfect virginal kept man.”

“What?” Sonny grabbed Vinnie’s arm, turning and pushing it against the pillow, bringing their faces close. “Why would you ever say that to me!”

“That’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it? If they got to me and spoiled me or not?”

“What the fuck?” Sonny twisted his arm now, alternating between royally pissed and hurt. This was real now. Vinnie was really trying to hurt him this time.

“Yeah, they talked about that a lot. Your ‘drivers’. The line up of pretty men that have come and gone. How your tastes run….”

“Oh my god.” Sonny let go of his arm, turned and raised his hands to his face. “Fucking liars. What the fuck is going on, Vinnie?”

When Vinnie didn’t answer, Sonny slowly lowered his hands.

Vinnie’s face was crumpled now, his breath shaking. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. Sonny, you’re too cavalier about it. People notice. They notice we’re too strong together. We scare all of the others. All of them from Mahoney to Patrice to…Sonny…they’re all freaked out that we’re gonna take over the whole arena because they know we’re that strong.” He lowered his head.

Sonny had gone tight, cold. “What do you mean…?” He couldn’t breathe. He whispered, “The way I look at you?”

Vinnie’s teeth clamped his lower lip. He rolled his eyes. “They think we’re already lovers.”

“Already…?”

“Sonny! Wake up!”

Sonny just sat there, stunned. His tastes didn’t run to men. But people were thinking it. Because of Vinnie? Vinnie was special. Different. He loved Vinnie, sure. But he goddamn well hadn’t done anything to reveal how he really felt. He’d kept that part of himself hidden. Or so he thought.

“Fuck, Sonny, I’ve noticed!”

Sonny shifted his eyes to glare at Vinnie but no other part of him moved.

Vinnie shook his head, let out a half-sob, half-laugh. “If you weren’t addicted to this goddamn shadowy world of yours I’d….” He let out a sigh.

Sonny felt his brow lower. He tried not to react when he saw Vinnie swipe his fist across his eyes. He wanted to know what Vinnie was going to say, but Vinnie never finished.

Then Vinnie said, “Look at you. As if you don’t get it. It’s special what we have, Sonny. I had feelings, too, you know. Now everything between us is ruined….”

Sonny still couldn’t breathe. Vinnie had feelings? What…feelings?

Now Vinnie started to breathe harder. He grimaced hatefully again. “Just go on and get out of here!” He began to push at Sonny, a repeat performance of earlier. Sonny stayed frozen. Barely budging.

“If you can’t say anything to me, then get the fuck outta my bed!” Vinnie demanded, voice loud now. He pushed Sonny harder. Pushed again. “Get out!” Then Vinnie was wincing, on his bruised knees and shoving at Sonny’s shoulders with his hands.

To keep from rolling right off the edge of the bed, Sonny suddenly felt himself move. He smacked at Vinnie’s arms. “Dammit, stop pushing me!”

But Vinnie was like a madman now. “Get off my bed! It’s how rumors get started in the first place!”

Sonny grabbed him hard and pushed back. “Shut up!” He heard his voice sound small, unsure, as he said that. It was so unlike him.

Vinnie was weaker now, and fell to his side. “Just leave!”

Sonny rolled trying to get balanced by sitting up and coming to his knees, but Vinnie was hitting him again. “Vinnie, stop!”

“Please…get off…!”

Sonny made it to his knees and grabbed his wrists and pressed them down to Vinnie’s chest. “Just stop!”

Vinnie squirmed. “Get off me!”

Sonny redistributed his weight. “Stop,” he repeated. “And just shut up!”

“Fuck you!”

Now Sonny moved in closer, his voice insistent but not raised. “Vinnie….”

Vinnie pushed up with his body. Tears pooled again in his eyes. “Fuck….”

“Shut up, Vincent.” He let go of Vinnie’s hands, grabbed him hard around the shoulders, his palms pushing underneath his naked back until he could pull him tight against him. Then softly, “Just…hush. I don’t care what anybody has to say about us.” He felt Vinnie’s muscles go limp.

After about a minute, Vinnie gasped against him, lifted his own arms and put them around Sonny’s waist. He whispered softly into Sonny’s chest, “I’d do anything for you. All you have to do is ask.”

Sonny felt air push tight through his throat with a sound of almost surprise. He could not keep the total disbelief from his voice when he said, softly, “In this situation, how the hell do I do that?”

Vinnie didn’t answer.

They rested for awhile. Silent. Unmoving. Finally Vinnie shifted. “’M okay,” he mumbled.

Sonny pulled back a little, watching him. “C’mon, sit up.” He reached between them and found the two pill bottles. “You gotta take one of each.”

Vinnie sat up. Sonny reached behind him and grabbed the glass of orange juice, handing it to him, then he shifted until he sat beside Vinnie again, but this time leaning casually against him.

Vinnie took the pills and drank the juice.

Sonny took the empty glass, put it aside, then lightly skimmed his fingers over Vinnie’s bruised jaw. Vinnie’s blue eyes watched him. They were intent but seemingly expressionless. And they were irresistible. Sonny bent his head then and kissed him feather-light on the lips. He leaned back watching as Vinnie’s lips quivered, parted. Even beaten, he looks fucking beautiful.

“There. No more rumors,” Sonny said. His heart was racing.

Vinnie drew a deep breath, his eyes slowly closing as his hand reached out. He twined his fingers with Sonny’s.

*

 

“Contrary to word on the street, I’ve never been in a situation like this before,” Sonny said quietly, a little while later.

Vinnie shot him a small smile, but his eyes were still pained. “You think I have?”

Sonny grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “No, Vinnie, I don’t think that.”

The funny thing was, this whole time Sonny still had on his suit, sans jacket, a very nice Pierre Cardin, medium gray and so fine it continually whispered about his body like a silken wind. There was dried blood on the white shirt that might never come out. And there Vinnie was, injured but still gorgeous, in only black shorts.

It was crazy.

They were crazy.

“I can’t stand this,” Vinnie said softly.

Sonny kept squeezing his hand. “I know. And you hate me, too.” He glanced sheepishly at him.

Vinnie’s smile left abruptly and he looked suddenly torn, suddenly in pain again. A small, strangled sound escaped him and Sonny turned and put his hand on his chest. “You need rest.”

Vinnie scooted down in the bed until he was on his side. “I’m so tired. But you still don’t have the full story. So don’t you fucking go anywhere.”

Sonny let Vinnie’s arm rest against his waist as he remained leaning against the headboard. It felt perfectly normal, natural. In fact, he loved it. He reached out and stroked the hair back from Vinnie’s forehead. “I won’t.”

Finally, Vinnie closed his eyes and slept.

While he slept, Sonny slid his feet over the side of the bed and kicked off his shoes. Then he made a few calls from the bedside phone, talking softly. Within an hour the mess at The Marine was cleaned up. He was assured everything was taken care of. Those three men would never be found.

Vinnie slept curled beside him looking like an angel, his face, despite bruises, amazingly smooth and young, untarnished still by life in the shadows, and on the streets.

Sonny’s heart tremored as he watched him breathe deep and slow, resting finally, pursuing some semblance of peace. He wanted to keep Vinnie like this forever. Safe. Heart not quite so hard yet that it could never show itself. Smile unfettered by ghosts and guilts. But the Steelgrave empire was founded on crime. How could he protect Vinnie from the very thing he himself was? A thug. A notorious gangster who lived and breathed nefarious underworld politics.

Sonny himself was the very poison he wanted to protect Vinnie from.

As he watched Vinnie’s unworried, sleeping face, he felt his eyes grow hot with a sting as rare to him as rain in a desert.

Yes, this was completely and utterly insane. Him and Vinnie. Together like this? How in the world was it ever going to work?

He sat for a long time in the dark just thinking. Finally, his arm curving protectively above Vinnie’s head, he dozed off.

*

 

Vinnie cried out. Sonny shook him awake.

It took awhile for Vinnie to reorient himself. Then he got up and disappeared into the bathroom for awhile.

When he came back, he stood uncertainly by the side of the bed. Sonny watched his face, saying nothing.

Abruptly, Vinnie broke the silence. “I want you to know I’d lay down my life for you.”

“I already know that. You already have.”

Vinnie stepped back and leaned heavily against the wall undressed, unshaven, hair a riot of black. But he seemed oblivious to everything except some inward pain. His voice came out inflectionless as he spoke. “But I can’t be what you think I am.”

Sonny shrugged. “Who cares? Get back in the bed before you fall down.”

Vinnie held up a hand. “I’m fine.” But his slumped posture said otherwise.

“Yeah, I can see that. C’mon.”

He shook his head.

Sonny sat up straighter and just looked at him. Something was happening to Vinnie’s face. A grimace of…agony? Vinnie’s head lowered. Then his whole body slumped, slid down the wall and to the floor.

Sonny jumped up too late to catch him. But Vinnie had not passed out. He was sitting curled into himself. Sonny knelt. “Vinnie, c’mon. I’ll help you back into bed.”

Vinnie pressed his forehead to his bent knee and replied in a whisper, “I just want to die.”

“Wh…what?”

He murmured softly. “I told you. You don’t have the full story, Sonny.”

“Yeah, so what?”

Vinnie’s murmuring voice was so soft that Sonny was sure he heard him incorrectly when he said, “You’re gonna kill me. You’re gonna kill me.”

Sonny ignored him and grabbed him under the shoulders. “C’mon, back to bed with you. You’re not making any sense.” He dragged Vinnie up, who helped very little. Damn but he was heavy!

When he got him on the bed, he pushed the covers back for him. Vinnie looked just past him and toward the wall, saying, “I’d rather you kill me, though, than anyone else. I’d rather it was you.”

“I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Sonny replied, lying beside him, matching his still silk clothed body along the length of Vinnie’s bare skin. “Nobody’s killing anybody tonight.” He pulled the covers over them both, leaned on his elbow over Vinnie trying to get him to look at him, then said, “You know you were right earlier. My addiction to this…world. You should hate me. I can take one look at you and see you have a good soul. We’re good together, but I’m pure poison to you. You deserve better.”

That got Vinnie to look at him. His blue eyes were wide with shock. He gulped. “You got it wrong. Sonny, I’m trying to tell you. I’m poison to you. I’m not what you think I am.”

“You’re not poison to anyone, Vinnie….”

“Sonny,” he interrupted, teeth gritted. Vinnie grabbed his arm, holding it hard. “I’m cyanide to your world. Sonny….” He flattened his lips. Tightened his grip. “I’m a fucking cop!”

At first Sonny didn’t think he’d heard him right. His heart fluttered, then seemed to freeze in mid-beat. He had no air in his lungs. And he could not seem to take his eyes off Vinnie’s.

The wide blue gaze was unblinking. “I’m laying my life on the line telling you this,” Vinnie whispered shakily, but he still did not look away.

Sonny couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t seem to do anything at all except stare at that face. That face that was on him, in him, everywhere he went, everywhere he looked. A deep part of him already knew. Somehow, this wasn’t as surprising to him as Vinnie might think it was. And now Vinnie was telling him…telling him…. What did that mean that Vinnie was telling him this now? What could Vinnie possibly hope for by revealing as deadly a piece of information as this to the head of the Steelgrave crime syndicate? To Sonny Steelgrave himself?

As he watched Vinnie watching him, he heard Vinnie’s breath become strained again. Still, as the other man struggled with himself, struggled to breathe, to Vinnie’s credit he never looked away.

Barely registering anything but the face before him, unable to see anything else at all, Sonny brought one arm up, grabbed his bare shoulder, and leaned slowly in. He breathed in tart sweat, the vague scent of sweet shampoo, and something scorching, smoky, earthen, maybe even dangerous. His whole body flamed. Ah, so that was it, the danger that was just under the surface. The promise of an honest challenge no one else he knew had ever offered, the memory of the upheld head and raised fists of the pissed off busboy he’d first met. Even if the origin wasn’t true, Vinnie was still that guy demanding justice, insisting on it. Meeting his eyes, lowering his hands, telling Sonny ‘You win,’ but at the same time never weak, vowing his strength to Sonny, vowing his soul.

Now it was happening all over again, Vinnie spilling spaghetti on him, demanding reprisal.

Sonny breathed into his face. He shook his head, wanting to speak, but no words came. He moved slowly until their faces touched, then kissed him. Kissed him again. Hard. He thought he heard Vinnie make a sound but Vinnie didn’t push him away. He felt Vinnie’s breath press against his mouth. He didn’t let up. He moved his body over Vinnie’s. He opened his mouth. A few seconds later, he felt Vinnie’s arms go around his waist. Then Vinnie opened his mouth.

What was inside Sonny turned from heat to conflagration.

There was, really, nothing more to say.

*

 

'We have just one world, but we live in different ones.' The words to a haunting song floated through Sonny’s mind. He couldn’t remember where they came from. But he and Vinnie, well, right now they were making a new world containing just the two of them.

Vinnie moaned, a sort of plaintive cry, sought Sonny’s lips, rolled on top of him clutching Sonny’s head between both hands and ravaging his mouth. Sonny felt thoroughly and wonderfully invaded. Somewhere his good gray suit lay rumpled, forgotten. The bedcovers were in heaps on the floor.

It was so deliciously intimate…Vinnie rubbing himself against him, their bodies hard, slick, craving each other like starved men. Sonny had never known anything like it.

It was risky. It was hazardous. It was heaven.

It was madness. It was lunacy. It was wonderful.

Vinnie was a cop.

His mind played with the notion. Batted it around.

Vinnie reached between them, then, and started stroking him, hand firm, warm…solid Vinnie.

Vinnie was his.

And there went his mind all white and fuzzy; his last thought before succumbing to the touch: A cop? Well, then, fuck all because this was the best thing he’d ever had.

*

 

Sonny ran his hand over Vinnie’s hip, down his smooth thigh. For all that mass of black hair on Vinnie’s head, and the thick black brows that perfectly capped those glacier blue eyes, Vinnie’s slender body was surprisingly devoid of hair. A small “V” on his chest. Dark shadows under the arms. A gentle wave of black against the groin. And that was about it.

But that wasn’t what Sonny loved about Vinnie’s body. No. It was the solidity. The firmness. The strength. The height. He loved that Vinnie’s arms grabbed. It made him feel utterly wanted. He loved that Vinnie’s body could, without him having to allow it, push him down, hold him down. He would never have thought that before. Had never even considered that he might want that.

His whole life he’d always gone for women…soft, voluptuous, easy to fondle, to kiss, to dominate. But this was like a steak dinner, going to the fights and being made love to within an inch of his life all in one fell swoop.

Sonny might be spoiled, maybe even jaded, but he’d never had anything so good.

As Vinnie lay panting, he kissed that body all over. And all over again. Then he pinned Vinnie’s wrists above his head and kissed his mouth deep, deeper. Vinnie was in a beautiful frenzy, thrashing, begging, cajoling. He got his hands loose, grabbed Sonny’s shoulders and pushed him down, down. He begged with a radiance suffusing his face. He begged piteously. Then sweetly. Then angrily. He was so lovely, so dazzling…that Sonny’s hunger knew no limits. He took him into his mouth, finishing him off with just the right amount of enthusiasm mixed with rapture mixed with pure adoration. That was when Vinnie hated him the most. Called him names. Provoking him. Forsaking him. Lamenting him. He pulsed again, and again as Sonny swallowed all the grudges, all the guilt, and finally all the pent up, ferocious and faithful love.

Vinnie sat up then, grabbing him into an embrace, holding onto him as tight as he could. He breathed Sonny’s name into his ear. Once. It was all Sonny wanted to hear.

Exhausted, panting, covered in sweat, they fell back onto damp sheets and lay limp, bested, unmoving. They stared at each other for a long time, still, reverent.

Finally Sonny broke the silence. “So, you gonna arrest me?”

The corner of Vinnie’s mouth twitched. Sonny felt his own mouth twitch in answer. Vinnie’s teeth clutched his lower lip to stop the slow half-smile that was starting to form. Sonny pressed down on the smile that was curving his own lips. Then, as if some invisible hand had wiped the slate clean, they found themselves grinning unabashedly like two kids who’d just eaten the whole pie.

Finally they got up, took a shower together, changed the sheets and went back to bed until morning.

(end)

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work by Natasha Solten, you may also enjoy her m/m romances on Kindle under her non-fanfic name: Wendy Rathbone. Look for "The Foundling," "The Secret Sharer" and the soon to be released "None Can Hold the Dark" (due in fall 2013.) She also has an sf novel out, and a collection of poetry.


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